


Pending for Atonement

by ignemferam



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode: s05e19 Vegas, M/M, Stargate Atlantis AU: Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignemferam/pseuds/ignemferam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Vegas AU.</i> It was a Wednesday night. Friday would be payday and he would have a poker game he could go to. That was two more nights sitting at the quiet corner of Pink Flamingo's bar and drinking some cheap beer to kill time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pending for Atonement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sexycazzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexycazzy/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine, no matter how much I want them to be.
> 
>  **Spoilers:** Atlantis 5.19 _Vegas_.
> 
>  **Prompts:** _any modern AUs (i.e. superpowers, His Dark Materials' universe, cops, working in a coffee shop/bookshop, Vegas's universe etc)_
> 
>  **Author's Notes:** I hope I haven't missed the mark on this. The smut is brief 'cause even though it seems to be all about sex but it really isn't.  
>  \- Written for [sexycazzy](/users/sexycazzy) in [sg-flyboys](http://sg-flyboys.livejournal.com/)'s Thing-a-Thon.  
> \- Un-beta'd.  
> \- All establishments (clubs, hotels, and restaurants) mentioned are fictional, i.e. they don't exist other than in my imagination.  
> \- A huge thank you to [mcgarrett](/users/mcgarrett) for a quick read-through and [colls](/users/colls) for the shirtless Mitchell cuffed to the bed as moral support.  
> \- All feedbacks are loved.

It was a Wednesday night.

There was a game he could join, if only he had the money. Too bad Mikey put the word out to _advise_ anyone else from continuing to loan him money.

"I like you, Detective. So I'm gonna tell you what I'd never tell any other client. Go to a meeting or something."

A criminal advocating a law enforcement officer to take a twelve-step program. That was new.

Friday would be payday and he knew a poker game he could go to without alerting Mikey. Maybe he wanted John to pay back some of his debts first. There was simply no way a guy like Mikey would rather a client to stop gambling.

Two more nights before he would play. That was two more nights sitting at the quiet corner of Pink Flamingo's bar and drinking some cheap beer to kill time.

Well, the beer was not actually bad. Some club owners happened to cops for patrons and gave them discount. And Pink Flamingo was one of those _welcoming_ clubs.

That, and John had an arrangement with the bartender there. Turk got fucked, regularly, with access to handcuffs which were used on actual criminals. And once in a while when John was in the mood, Turk got to turn the table around. John got further discounted booze and a healthy sex life. Everybody got what they wanted.

John was at the far end of the bar sitting in front of a barren wall, with nothing nearby. The quiet greatly contrast with the bustling strip club. It suited him, well enough - sipping his beer in peace, watching people and if the mood struck him perhaps musing on life a little. Like a fly on the wall. Well, only 'almost' because the illusion was broken when Turk took his empty glass away and poured him another one from the tap.

That was exactly why this guy coming up the bar to order a round of shots for his loud group of friends intrigued him. For one thing, nobody left their stage-side seat to order directly from the bartender instead of a skimpily dressed waitress. For another, the bar might not be big but it was practically void of people, and yet this guy strode up to within reach of John. The fact that the guy was pretty good-looking did not escape John.

Facing the stage, the guy leaned back against the bar top with elbows on it. He was definitely making himself comfortable and his intention rather obvious.

Almost conversationally, he drawled just enough to be overheard under the music. "Nice vantage point of the club. But you can't see much of the action from way back here."

John gave a half shrug, despite the guy was unable to see him, and replied, "Not really here for the show." He knew quite well how this conversation would go. There was a reason the guy stood so close and John happily welcomed the unanticipated detour of his night.

And damn, the guy looked great this close - short sandy hair, blue eyes and delicious stretch of the sleeve over his arm. And from what John could see under the low light a perfect ass in jeans.

He turned his head to John, ever so slowly in John's mind, with a laid-back grin and an eyebrow raised giving John an accessing gaze, "Please tell me you aren't the boyfriend of one of the dancers."

"I'm here for Turk," John pointed with his chin at Turk who was busying himself with the tequila shots, "Well, his booze and his wonderful personality."

Out of the corner of his eye, John could barely make out Turk flipping him off while the grin on his new company's face turned blinding. The guy angled his body to face John, extending his right hand and pointing over his shoulder to his group of friends with the other, "Cam, best man and brother of the groom-to-be."

Bachelor party at a strip club. Some clichés were so good, they deserved to be immortalized in a hall of fame.

"John," accepting the firm handshake, John offered. "Judging from how wasted your friends are, you're the designated driver too?"

"I'm only responsible for my brother. Not keeper of his friends or any of our cousins," Cam stated, matter-of-factly. "He's getting another half hour before I drag his ass back to the hotel."

That, right there, was the opening John needed. There was utterly no reason for this conversation to carry on longer than necessary. Cam might be an eye candy but John could have his fill when Cam was naked, and writhing under him.

"Only his ass?"

The lighting of the club might be dim but John could see very well the reddening of Cam's neck. There was no doubt Cam knew John's meaning. Chatting up another guy in a strip club, whose main clientele were straight men, was unusual to say the least. The person initiating the conversation actually blushed when they got to the point was refreshingly surprising.

And damn, John should not find that endearing and surely should not feel like his heart grew bigger than his chest cavity. No one-nighter should ever elicit responses like that. Instant lust was a fact, instant crush was a myth.

So, desire, yes. Feelings, no.

"I was hoping." The smile accompanying the answer was shy. Inexperience should not be hot, at least not for man at Cam's age. Well, John had no knowledge of his age but he would hazard a guess to be around his own.

"Which hotel are you staying at?" It was business. At least, a business-like transaction of mutual pleasure. It would do John good not to linger over unexplainable feelings he should not have towards someone he did not know. But then, he was never quite smart enough to stay away from things that were known to be bad for him.

"Farraday, at the end of the strip," Cam paused to give a quick glance over at the group of guys he was with. Everyone seemed mellowed out though still in a good mood. "Give me an hour to take care of Connor. I'll meet you at the hotel bar."

"Bar?" John quietly chuckled, "We've already done the bar part. Which room are you in?"

If possible, Cam's face turned a slightly deeper red. "302." John gave him an affirming nod and watched him started to head back to his brother's party.

"See you in an hour." John spoke to Cam's back, rather certain that he was unable to hear him.

"So, I'm going home alone tonight." The mock hurt in the Jersey accent was infused with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Turning to Turk, who had silently ambled up to where he was at the bar, John snickered. "We never fuck at night."

"Not because I work nights," pointing an accusing finger at John, Turk retorted, "It's you who find poker more entertaining than me, by which I still feel insulted. Evidently, southern boy seems fascinating enough for you."

John ignored Turk's halfhearted ranting and stood, waving his goodbye. A trip to the nearby drugstore and back should give the cool nighttime dessert air enough time to clear his head so he could drive over to Farraday. He needed to pick up condoms and lube anyway. With the way Cam behaved, John might better be prepared himself.

. . . . . .

Never judge a book by its cover. John had to mentally remind himself of the cardinal rule of detective work.

Cam's inexperience seemingly stopped at picking up guys. John would never have pegged him as a good kisser with the blushing. Anyhow, the way Cam's tongue traced over John's lips teasingly before skillfully pry them apart to demand entrance then playfully wrestling with John's tongue as he mapped the inside of John's mouth, told a completely different story.

The slightly uncertain demeanor back in the club was replaced by confidence with a healthy dose of playfulness, which only turned John on more.

As John eagerly returned Cam's kiss, deft fingers were stealthily undoing the buttons on John's shirt. When John finally comprehended what Cam had done, Cam was already running a palm down his chest with calloused fingers introducing friction to a nipple and sending shivers down John's spine.

"Fuck..." John could not help but curse at the sensation. He felt Cam grinning against his lips, before tracing down kisses along his jaw to the side of his neck. Cam's hands though, never stopped moving. They ghosted over John's flanks up to his shoulders, pushing firmly to slide the shirt together with the jacket off of John. In a quick moment, Cam backed John to the bed and softly pushed him to topple over and fall onto the bed.

So yes, Cam was experienced, much to John's delight. With the confidence, John had no problem letting Cam take the lead. In fact, he was too happy to do otherwise.

Cam took a moment to look over John from head to toe. The heated gaze was almost a tangible touch which John was enjoying a great deal. It always felt good to be desired like that. John's own eyes were on Cam as well, taking in what he failed to see back in the club, tracing Cam's each tiny movement as he lifted the t-shift off of his body.

Something on Cam caught John's attention as his focus zoomed in at the middle of Cam's chest.

John had notice the ball chain but what he thought was a pendant hanging by it was in fact a set of dog tags. A set of well worn dog tags. Those looked authentic.

It was impossible to miss the shift of mood in the room and Cam quickly realized the cause of the change.

"You don't have a problem with the military, do you?"

"No," was the simply reply John gave. It was not a lie. Not precisely. John only had issues with the way he was stripped of his rank, not with the military as a whole.

But he was still staring at Cam's dog tags as he sat up from the bed and proceed to take off his shoes and socks. Cam took that as the answer he needed and started with his own.

"Ex-Air Force, fighter pilot if you to be specific. I resigned my commission after meeting my ex and didn't feel like lying about myself anymore."

It was not the story John was expecting to hear. Truthfully, John did not anticipate any details at all. They were going to have sex. Everything else, including too much talking, complicated the simple act of seeking pleasure. He needed to stop Cam talking and get on with the program.

"Mmmm, I bet he loves the uniform," John murmured with his mouth hovering over one of Cam's nipples. His hands found Cam's belt and started unbuckling it while he took the nipple between his lips, teasing it his tongue.

A hiss came from Cam which John took as the sign of they could get back to what was important. However Cam seemed to recover quickly because he continued to say, "That's part of the problem. He actually likes the secrecy with the uniform. Guess I lost the appeal leaving the Air Force. So he left me."

Fuck, wrong question to ask.

By then, John had Cam's jeans open so he took the direct approach and bite gently along the side of Cam's erection through the white cotton of his boxer brief.

"Fuck, John!"

The cry of pleasure was what John needed. His hands quickly gripped the waistband and pulled down the underwear. No time was wasted to take the cock head in between his lips to further prohibit Cam from talking.

John received a confirmation on all systems go in the form of a curse and a loud moan from Cam.

Finally, back on track.

. . . . . .

He was supposed to be here in the bathroom to clean up, before making his leave. Though something inside made him pause in front of the mirror and wonder, why John felt differently about Cam. John liked sex. He had sex, quite regularly. It could be some random men or women, or Turk. Cam was but just another one. He should not be special.

But.

There was something familiar about Cam, and it was not the ex-Air Force thing. It was something elusive John could not yet put his finger on. He knew if he looked harder, it would come to him. However that probably would get too deep into the _feelings_ territory.

No, John was not going there. Too much guilt. Just too much.

Cam was dangerous. He evoked feelings John buried to survive.

John needed to leave. Now.

. . . . . .

Cam was sitting against the headboard with the sheets draped haphazardly across his lower body. The sated look and content smile he directed at John was enough to have John stopped in his track stepping out of the bathroom.

John's flight instinct was decimated in an instance.

All John could do was to drop the towel around his waist and crawled back into bed until his head rested against Cam's sternum, his body fitted into the V of Cam's spread legs and Cam's arms wrapped around his shoulders. Nothing mattered to John except keeping that look on Cam.

"I'm doing this backward... Would you have dinner with me tomorrow?" The timbre of Cam's drawl thickened in post-coital haze, like a Siren's song to John's ears.

Dinner? That sounded like a date which should not happen with one-night stands.

"Aren't you supposed to be at your brother's wedding reception?" The 'yes' almost came out before John took back control of his speech. Answering the question with another question was at that moment the safe route to go.

The hearty laughter in response brought out gooseflesh all over John. It surprised John how much he was enjoying this semblance of intimacy and normalcy.

"Connor doesn't want to look hungover at his wedding, so we had the party tonight. As far as I know, he's planning a nice steak for dinner tomorrow and be in bed by ten. Our flight's on Friday morning." Lifting a hand off John, Cam pulled the sheets over the both of them and briefly planted his lips against John's temple before continuing. "Have dinner with me."

If what Cam wanted was another fuck, John would have no problem saying yes right then. But dinner was a whole other topic entirely. It would mean something intimate, something more than just a fling. Reality was Cam would leave Vegas and John would be his who-he-fucked-in-Vegas-stayed-in-Vegas.

No. John should say no. He did not need the complications. All he needed was a good fuck. All he _wanted_ was a good fuck.

John kept telling himself that.

The weight of Cam's gaze on him was palpable. Even the room seemed to be holding its breath waiting for John's answer.

"Please?"

The quiet plead crumbled John's resolve.

"Ok."

. . . . . .

The corners of Cam's mouth curled up a tiny fraction even in sleep.

John thought if he slipped out of bed early without waking Cam up, not having to look at those clear blue eyes and hear that alluring drawl, he could leave without a trace. Like a ghost Cam could not find, John could go back to his life of non-feeling.

It was a good thing John did not even tell Cam that he was a cop.

A brief glance at the sleeping form of Cam had John leaving his numbers scribbled on the back of his card, tugged away safely under Cam's wallet on top of the dresser.

The only good thing was, John made it out of the room with the urge to slide back in bed and into Cam's embrace successfully suppressed.

Maybe things would be fine. Maybe feeling a little something, enjoying a little regular social interaction with another human companion would not be so bad. He was getting tired of this self-imposed emotional exile anyway. Maybe the long subdued guilt would not resurface. Maybe he would be allowed to feel happy again.

Maybe, for just one night, he would let himself have the luxury of thinking things could turn out better.

Yeah, John never really knew how to stay away from things that were bad for him.

. . . . . .

Mostaccioli was a cozy, family style Italian place where no tourist would find. It was also close to John's apartment where he got his takeouts. He knew the food was good, but having a meal inside, with somebody, was actually a new experience to him.

Cam seemed excited, likely not just because of the nice food or the small talk they were having. Well, Cam was doing most of the talking while John offered a comment here and there. This human interaction thing John was sort of rusty at doing.

Nearing the end of the main course, John could tell Cam was psyching himself up. For what though, he could not deduce. Strangely, it gave him no feeling of dread.

"So I went to this interview this afternoon --"

"An _interview_?" That was not what John was expecting. Well, he did not know what to expect anyway.

Cam simply smiled and nodded, "A job interview. A friend told me this company was expanding and hiring a couple more pilots for their Grand Canyon tours. I got a new job today."

That would explain why Cam seemed excited the whole evening. The implication though...

"Good thing I keep my civilian license. It's no fighter jet and it's tourists all the time, but at least I'll be flying again."

Cam would move to Vegas. Did Cam want this to be a thing? Not just a quick fling but actually a thing?

"Well, actually the manager and I talked on the phone before I came here. So the interview was pretty much just a formality before they made an offer."

Fucking men was one thing, but John had never had a relationship with another man, unless the casual fuck buddy arrangement with Turk could be counted as one. But the real question was, did he want to be dating Cam?

"I gave my notice the week before. Now I just need to pack my things and come back after Connor's wedding to find a place. That leaves me with plenty of time before the new job starts."

And more importantly, was Cam even remotely hinting at a relationship with John?

"John?"

"So you're moving here?" John's voice might be a tad unsteady. Maybe he wanted the chance or maybe he was afraid of changes. It was a rut he reckoned he was in. But his rut was familiar and safe.

"Yeah. Don't have much to pack. All I need is to find a friend help send 'em over later," there was a slight twinkle in Cam's eyes when he looked hopefully at John, "Think you can help me find a place?"

John swallowed, reflexively. "Cam..."

It was that easy smile again. "I'm not going to stalk you if you say no, John. I've been planning for this job before I got to Vegas. I think it'll be something that is good for me. Like I think you'll be good for me. I understand you may not be looking for a relationship. But I have to say I'll be really disappointed if you feel that way."

There, out in the open, was what Cam wanted. But what did John want?

"You don't know me. You don't even know what I do for a living. What if I'm a deranged serial killer?" It was the truth. And John had firsthand knowledge how badly it could end when one person fell for another unbeknownst to the monster that they got involved with.

"Does it matter?" It was a casual remark, though it was blatantly obvious that Cam was serious by his firm tone. "I trust my gut. Even if it ends in disasters, at least I have no regrets."

Regrets. John already had enough regrets in his life.

"Anyway, what's good for dessert?"

Cam might have swiftly changed the topic of conversation, it stuck in John's head.

. . . . . .

They did not talk about Cam's impending move to Vegas again that night. Nor did they talk about Cam wanting to date John when he had moved here.

After dinner, they headed back to John's apartment. And they did nothing except taking their time to indulge in each other. Cam left before the clock struck twelve. His flight was too early in the morning to stay the night.

John was glad to have a moment to think even though the noises inside his head were too loud. The only clear thoughts on his mind were the rolling of sweat on Cam's skin and what he said about regrets.

Regrets, John knew too well. And now he had to wonder if Cam would be another one or not seeing him again would be.

Friday morning, the chief dumped the case file of the desiccated corpses on John's desk. The case was bizarre, and yet John could not concentrate enough to think about it as he drove out to the crime scene.

Cam's words lingered in his mind.

. . . . . .

It really was not about the few thousand dollars.

If John was honest to talk about what made him run, it would be the potential of having an intimate relationship with another person again. It had been so long the mere idea of it was scarier than seeing a man dropped over ten stories but got up and walked away. Well, he thought that it was a man.

It should be noted that he had made the progress to admit, to himself, he would like to have an intimate relationship with a practical stranger he just met not 72 hours ago. Having a gun pointing in his face was far easier to handle than going through with the idea. So he ran, grabbed the money and made his escape.

If he did not have it, he would not lose it.

. . . . . .

Not losing something - someone - should not hurt, since he never had that something in the first place.

And yet, there was John lying on the ground, bleeding out from the bullet wounds, nothing hurt more than the thought of the unrealized potentials.

In his vision, the sky was darkening. He did not know for sure it was the time of day or the loss of blood. Physical pain was fading into numbness. The heavy weight sitting on his chest could be the result of him dying or the regret not knowing Cam better like he wanted to.

Regrets. He would never forget but maybe he could now forgive himself. Maybe saving the world and dying because of it was his atonement.

Maybe he could be worthy for happiness now. In another life.

. . . . . .

The first thing he noticed was the dull aching.

Pain. _"So, not dead?"_

He could hear a steady rhythmic beep and other low indistinguishable noises. His eyelids felt heavy but from what he could make out of the blurry vision he was in a hospital room.

_"Not dead. Good."_

With efforts, he managed to turn and notice another person in the room. Sprawling uncomfortably asleep in the chair a bit too small for his frame was Cam.

_"Okay... Probably a dream then."_

Staying conscious was draining. Quickly he was losing his grip already. Mere moments later his world faded into darkness again.

Except this time, he felt no regrets but a faint trace of content.

. . . . . .

The next time John opened his eyes, Cam's face was inches away from his own.

"Do you have to be this close?"

He could barely recognize his own voice as it was hoarse due to disuse. Cam pulled back grinning, and offer him a glass of water with a straw.

"You were stirring. I wanna be the first person you see when you wake up."

Right, Cam did not know John already woke up earlier and saw him. Cam was already the first person he saw.

"Seeing you were busy recovering from _'injuries received in a classified incident relating to national security'_ , I took it upon myself to find an apartment. So, thank you."

John drank slowly from the glass while giving Cam an incredulous look. No, he had not agreed to helping Cam with the search for a place. Not that he would refuse, but that was beside the point.

"Anyway," Cam chuckled, putting aside the glass of water, "You never told me you're a cop. Detective, even."

John shrugged, feeling the pain on his chest where he was shot. "I was. You didn't ask."

"Was?"

"I quit."

"So, not serial killer. I picked well."

John found snorting did not pull on his wounds. He had a feeling he would be doing a lot of that with Cam until he was completely healed. Or maybe even after.

"Think they're still looking for chopper pilot at your new job?"

It was definitely fun to see Cam raising both eyebrows, almost to his hairline. He was not sure what that feeling was shooting through him seeing Cam's reaction, but he liked it.

He would do anything to feel that again. And again.

"Can you fly a helicopter?" Heavily colored with disbelief was Cam's reply.

"Apache, Blackhawk, Cobra. You name it, I can fly it."

It was even more fun to watch Cam trying to work out if John was pulling his legs. "Where the hell did you get to fly those?"

"Don't you wanna know?"

Maybe, one day soon, John would tell Cam everything. Even things the NDAs said he could not tell a living soul.

Cam was safe.

. . . . . .

John could not help it but the question had been plaguing him since the night at the strip club. Cam was more than simply a good looking guy. His mildly annoying enthusiastic attitude was infectious and surprisingly offered a grounding calmness to John. It was better than Gambler Anonymous. Cam could have better choices than John.

Someone not as broken.

One morning, after toasts and eggs while sipping coffee, John simply blurted out despite his fear, "Why me?"

Cam gave him this long, thoughtful look then dipped his head avoiding eye contact. "Promise me you won't be mad."

It was not a response John had anticipated. "Of course."

Drawing in a deep breath, Cam kept his eyes lowered focusing on the now empty plates. "There was this guy back in flight school. He probably just started phase one when I began advanced fighter track. I had the biggest crush on him even though I never knew him." Lifting his head, he finally looked at John. "You reminded me of him. You're like a more mature, more attractive version of him. I couldn't help want to know you."

Right... John had yet to tell Cam about his own time with the Air Force.

"I'm glad you came talk to me." He meant it too. Why would he care about how they got here? The important thing was they were here, together. There was still fear of Cam might wise up and latch on to the fact he could do better than John, but John remembered his mother telling him, _"You only fear losing the ones you really love."_

A small grin broke out on Cam's face. "I wasn't expecting anything more than one night. It turned out better than I'd thought."

John said nothing in return but smiled.

Maybe he would also tell Cam about the enormous infatuation he developed for that sandy hair guy he kept ogling at during his pre-flight training months. It did not necessary mean the guy was Cam.

After all, _Mitchell_ was not an uncommon last name.


End file.
